Chapter Forty-Five: Shaping the Eyebrows

Watching the victorious scene on the screen, Li Daoran let out a deep breath. He didn’t cheer, but slumped back in the landing pod, utterly drained. The oppressive chill brought by Coldwind was overwhelming—at this moment, there was no joy in victory, only exhaustion and relief.

Coldwind’s 972 points had already transferred to Li Daoran’s account, raising his total to 1072 and unlocking a new mode in the ranking ladder: 5V5. He didn’t have time to examine this novel mode. Coldwind’s private message arrived immediately: “New ID?”

“No need. Let’s call it a draw—I just got lucky,” Li Daoran replied.

“Cut the crap. I’m not someone who refuses to admit defeat. No need for your fake sympathy. Hurry up, it’s just a secondary account—I’m not so petty I can’t take a loss.”

“Suit yourself,” Li Daoran closed the chat window, glanced briefly at the 5V5 rules, then shut down the landing pod and returned upstairs to his room to sleep. The landing pod consumed a tremendous amount of mental energy, and after such an intense battle, it was about time for Li Daoran to rest as scheduled.

When he woke, refreshed and energized, Li Daoran chose to return to Azure Star. As usual, he went to the bathroom first, then washed his face and brushed his teeth. Finally, he opened the door to find a table full of delicious food. After eating, he began his workout—a professional gym had been built just days before, adding fitness to his daily routine. He had long been accustomed to rigorous physical training in Daoran World; now, simple exercises on Azure Star barely counted as a warm-up, but they effectively kept his ever-growing weight in check.

Chen Ming was also pumping iron in the gym. Li Daoran greeted him.

“Not bad yesterday, Daoran,” Chen Ming said.

“It was alright,” Li Daoran replied, not feeling particularly accomplished. After all, if it hadn’t been for Chen Ming’s last-minute reminder, he wouldn’t have thought of the desperate strategy that clinched the win.

“You did well. The time is short, but what we need—and don’t lack—is time. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself,” Chen Ming said, wiping his brow with a towel.

“That doesn’t sound like something you’d say,” Li Daoran shrugged.

“Really?” Chen Ming set down his barbell; he’d struggled a bit to hold it one-handed while wiping sweat. Standing up, he said, “Didn’t you say last time? The authorities got so roasted online they couldn’t show their faces, and I got chewed out by the higher-ups for a whole day. You think I wanted that?”

“Haha, serves you right. But honestly, I’m anxious—are we going in the right direction?” Li Daoran spoke with a hint of hesitation.

“What’s on your mind? It’s fine, just say it. We’ll consider it carefully,” Chen Ming replied, sitting nearby.

Li Daoran fiddled with the pull-up bar and said, “It feels like you’re pushing me toward war. But I think hiding in the back is good—if things go south, I can run, or even just rely on your smarts. Guarding a territory or making some money would be much easier than this. Why insist on learning these things?”

“Tired? Or something else? Go ahead, you can say anything,” Chen Ming wasn’t surprised by Li Daoran’s doubts. In fact, such sentiments were common and sparked frequent debate among the people.

After finishing a set of pull-ups, Li Daoran began doing standing flies. He thought for a moment and said, “War is too dangerous—I can’t guarantee I’ll survive. Like yesterday, if it were a real battlefield, I’d probably be dead.”

“When war comes, you can’t hide. If you master these skills and there’s no war, we can still make money or do other things. But if war really breaks out and you don’t know these things, that’s when we’ll have real trouble. Better safe than sorry.

When the time comes, if we have to run, we’ll be faster than anyone else. Don’t worry, that’s not your concern.

Natasha’s teaching these days—disguise and psychology. I actually have a psychology degree myself, but honestly, Natasha is much better at it. She’s a genius at seeing through people. Once you learn this, escaping will be much easier,” Chen Ming explained patiently, also sharing the upcoming plans.

“No more mecha training?” Li Daoran was surprised. So far, he’d only practiced operating the Jumper mecha, and he thought he’d continue.

Chen Ming shook his head. “The authorities have new ideas. For now, you won’t train further. Your current skills are enough, and there’s little room for improvement right now. Keep practicing in Daoran World; here, you’ll be learning some new things—essential little tricks. Hey.”

“New ideas? What do you mean?” Li Daoran was even more curious.

“The research institute has established a Mecha Martial Arts Library. Sounds interesting, right? I went to look into it—there are indeed some promising developments. When results come out, it could greatly boost your abilities. You’ll see in time,” Chen Ming said with a smile, as if recalling something.

“What are they up to? Mecha martial arts? So mysterious—tsk,” Li Daoran scoffed at Chen Ming’s evasiveness.

After the workout, he showered and dried off. Natasha was already waiting at the door, startling him.

Her gaze was strange, scanning him from head to toe, and she flashed a mysterious smile. “Let’s go—the fun begins now.”

Li Daoran felt an inexplicable shyness. Chen Ming had said Natasha could see through people, but Li Daoran now felt she could see through clothes as well.

Natasha’s first lesson was simple: makeup. How to make one’s features more attractive and appealing. According to her, this was the hardest part—much harder than changing identities.

Li Daoran didn’t argue—whatever she said, he’d go along with it.

Back in Daoran World, Li Daoran took a deep breath. Learning with Natasha was both delightful and torturous—the fleeting glimpses of snowy skin, the occasional breath at his ear, and those tempting red lips—all rivaled, if not surpassed, the famous home tutor series.

He stood before the mirror, ready for the first assignment: eyebrow grooming.

With a small blade from the sink, Li Daoran followed Natasha’s instructions, trimming each hair carefully, her voice guiding him from time to time.

“Good, much more pleasing. Leave it for now, we’ll adjust next time.”

After finishing, Li Daoran didn’t feel much difference, yet he’d spent a whole hour. He suddenly felt a bit out of place with this lifestyle—wasn’t it more satisfying to spend an hour completing a mission? Wouldn’t training mecha in the internal network be better? Why was he plucking his eyebrows one by one?